Noticing Bron's disapproving look, the big man turns to looks at him. [color=red]"Did you have something to say to me, Outlander?"[/color]

Bron gives a predatory smile towards the big man, "Only cowards and idiots make the mistake of judging a warrior poorly because she is a woman. I just haven't decided which one you are yet."

"It is never wise to engage in a duel of wits with an unarmed man, neighbour."

Shen Hang-Wu.

Regard Atum gravely.

"He who can check a moment's rage shall calm and carefree remain for all his days."

Shen Hang-Wu.

Bron meets Atum's gaze unflinchingly. "I have seen much in my travels. There are always men who act like bulls and try to rule the herd. Yet they are never smart enough to know who holds the real power. Learn that lesson and you will think differently about women."

Bron leans back in his chair but remains tense and ready to move, "Now sit down before you insult yourself even more."

"Perhaps the damnable sun has baked away his good sense? Or mayhap he's never seen what a bossonian bow can do?"

Amalric

The man pauses, then looks Brom straight in the eye. [color=red]"I suppose you think to make me apologize?"[/color]

Hearing the exchange, Hymar comes hustling back into the room, carrying a tray laden with food and drink. He sets it before the two men at the strangers' table. [color=grey]"Atum, please do not do this! Forgive them, they are strangers here. Come, eat! Let no blood be spilled this day,"[/color] he asks pitiously.

The bigger man only smiles wickedly. [color=red]"You whine like a woman, Hymar. I do not need a weapon to teach this outlander a lesson,"[/color] he says, removing his belt and tossing it to his companions. He slips out of his robe, revealing a sculpted, muscular chest. He is tall and lean, not bulky, but his tone is that of a man who is no stranger to hard work or battle. He flexes his shoulders and his back pops audibly.

For her part in this, the Bossonian sits in silence, her face betraying no hint of emotion. She shifts her gaze to Brom, waiting to see if he will answer the challenge.

[color=grey]"Atum, please. I beg of you,"[/color] Hymar pleads again.

"Sure - we need to find out what is going on here..."

Shen Hang-Wu

The tunnel twists and turns for several dozen paces. The flooring is uneven and the entrance is heavily cobwebbed. Whatever originally created this passage no longer uses it, apparently. Soon, the passage opens into a large, darkened chamber. Hakim produces a torch and quickly brings it to life, revealing a burial chamber cut from the living rock. Inside, twenty stone coffins, just hollowed out stone blocks with lids rest against the wall along which you enter and the opposite wall (ten on each wall). Where the tunnel enters this chamber, four of the coffins are battered and smashed; the remainder have been crudely broken open. Cracked and gnawed bones litter the sandy earthen floor of this chamber.

Across the room, raiding the contents of one of the coffins opposite you, two humanoids look up suddenly, sensing your intrusion. They stare at you curiously for a half-second, before charging at you, teeth glistening with saliva and dirt-encrusted fingernails bared! Hakim backs up in a state of alarm, squeezing easily behind Shen Hang-Wu.

[color=green]You have entered along the right wall of the chamber (relative to the stone door that also opens into here from the entrance cavern you were just in). The tunnel through which you entered breaches the wall just to the right of the centerpoint. The humanoids are 50 feet across the room from you and look like they are going to charge you. Another stone door is opposite the first, to your left, currently. I'll do my best to have a tactical map up tomorrow.

For now, go ahead and give me your intended actions for three rounds. Try to include any foreseeable possibilities. I'll make the die rolls and handle the combat, and if something unforeseen comes up, I'll pause to get a response before continuing.[/color]

Bron hefts his battleaxe in his hands and with a mighty warcry, charges the humanoids with the intent of cleaving both in half. He will strike at the lead one first, letting his charge carry him past it to the second one to swing at it also, letting Shen Hang-Wu follow up with the lead one. Once the second one is dispatched with his axe, Bron will refocus his weapon on the first creature (if it still stands).

Go and examine the area. Then go round to Jarum.

"While I cannot with authority speak of what happened, I can at least begin to investigate if you wish. While the talk of 'demons' may be pure excitement, a creature that flies and is powerful to bear off a man is not beyond possibility."

Shen Hang-Wu.

While I enjoy the heat, a cold drink would be nice. So I climb down and stroll across towards the cantina.

Sheng Hang-Wu.

You see: A smallish shaven-headed fellow in a dark green silk robe, calm and quiet in my movement, a Khitan by appearance.

OOC: Still not used to the oppressive heat, I'll make for the cantina as soon as I'm able.

Amalric.

The young hyborian soldier steps into the shady cantina, doffs his steel cap and mops his brow. Dropping into an empty chair, he leans his weapon, a bill, against the wall and calls the bar keep.

"Ale, man! Mitra! It's hot down here! What have you to eat that won't sear me from the inside as well?"

The lad is sandy-haired and nursing the stubble of a beard, which he scratches constantly in the unaccustomed heat. He looks about the room, clearly interested in the sights and sounds of the place and nods a greeting to the Khitan, who he has noticed among the caravan.

Evening draws into night and gradually the crowd dwindles as one by one, the patrons head off to their homes or to their tents that have been erected outside of the caravansary. It is well after moonrise when Hymar chases the last stragglers out and closes his doors. The night is cool, a stark contrast to the blistering heat of the day, and the light of the moon gives the surrounding desert the look of a rolling sea. You retire to your tents (the caravansary would have provided them for those who desired such) or bedrolls and settle in, welcoming sleep after the long day.

Morning comes with a measure of trepidation. A crowd is gathered about one of the tents nearest the outskirts of the oasis, where a man lies dead, his throat torn out. The tent belongs to Sura, one of the merchants in the caravan, and the dead man was his guard. Sura is nowhere to be found, but the interior of the tent shows signs of a struggle. There no footprints about save those of Sura and his guard.

[color=red]"What could have done this?"[/color] one merchant calls out. [color=red]"What comes in the night and leaves no tracks?"[/color]

[color=gold][b]"It is a demon,"[/b][/color] a familiar voice says. It is Hakim, the son of the cantina owner. [color=gold][b]"I have seen it. It has great wings and skin as stone, and its claws are as knives![/b][/color]

A murmur passes through the crowd. Some smirk in derision, but others heed the boys words with a measure of seriousness. Hymar pulls the boy roughly aside and whispers something to him. In response, Hakim dashes off.

With a clap of his hands, Jarum, the caravan master summons a handful of guards. Two carefully wrap the body and carry it off, while the other two assume positions outside Sura's tent. Jarum turns to address the crowd.

[color=purple]"If any among you know of what has happened here, come to me and we will speak of it. "[/color]

The crowd disperses as the merchants begin opening their booths for another day of trading. News of the caravan's arrival has traveled, and already people from nearby communities and nomad tribes have come seeking supplies and exotic trinkets.

I nod back.

"You find the heat oppressive, neighbour? Relax, accept it into yourself, and it may not trouble you so much."

Sheng Hang-Wu.

Dust covered but not really caring, a tanned youth climbs off the wagon only to reach back and retrieve his meager belongings, a bow and a battleaxe. Stepping into the catina, he glances around and nods to the other travellers he has noticed making the same journey.

"By Crom, this heat will boil your blood."

Grinning sheepishly, he takes a seat at a table and asks for water. Looking over at Almaric and Sheng Hang Wu, he points to himself and says, "Brom, slayer of dragons. Or so my elders said as I rode out of camp."

Amalric.

"The ale is cool and good here, lad. Although to judge by his silks I think our Khitan friend here has the right of it- light robes and a cool attitude might be the best cure for this damnable heat."

Amalric will call for another ale and motion Brom to join him at his table.

"My name is Amalric. Nemedia is my home. The Dragon is the symbol of our nation, so I hope your elders spoke of other prey. I'd as soon be comrades as enemies."

"And you, friend," he says to the Khitan, "perhaps you would care to sup with us? We can make a party of it."

"As you wish, neighbour. My name is Sheng Hang-Wu."

Go and sit with the others.

Sheng Hang-Wu.

Receiving no response from Brom or Amalric, Hymar shrugs and hustles off through the doorway by which he entered. He returns a scant few moment later, bearing a tray with four mugs and two bowls of a strange food. One bowl and mug he sets on the table of the Bossonian, the other three mugs and remaining bowl he sets before you.

[color=grey]"Enjoy, friends. The dates are a gift for the supplies you bring to our village."[/color]

With that, he is off and running again. The bowl is filled with small wrinkled pieces of something golden-brown in color. The flesh is thick and somewhat sticky, but the flavor is sweet, unlike anything you have tasted before (most of you likely would not have savored dates). The wine is strong, but good, and the ale, though a bit weak by your standards, is palatable.

About halfway through your meal, a trio of men enter, wearing robes like those worn by the rest of the desert dwellers. One is rather stout, but the other two are lean, and all three have heavy beards. They wear long knives at their belts.

[color=red]"Hymar,"[/color] one of them calls out. [color=red]"You worthless son of a goat! Bring us wine!"[/color]

The stout one and one of the others seat themselves at an empty table, but the one that had shouted to Hymar pauses at the table with the Bossonian woman, giving her the once over. He wears rings of gold through his earlobes and his dark hair falls in ringlets about his rugged face. He leers at her unabashedly for a moment.

[color=green]"Stare all you will, desert dog, but touch me and you will know the taste of cold steel,"[/color] she says, her hand inching towards her sword.

The man merely smiles in response, moving to join his companions at their table. Hymar brings forth another tray of mugs and a bowl of dates, bows deeply, and backs away. His unease and eagerness to please are evident.

"Shen Hang Wu, do you believe it would be wise to try to open this door?"

Bron studies the door closer to see if there is evidence that the door has been opened recently.

"And why would someone drop gold coins here?" Bron picks them up and tosses one to Shen Hang Wu to examine.

Catch the coin and examine it.

Shen Hang-Wu.

Look over at the new arrivals.

"Good day, neighbours."

Sheng Hang-Wu.

The coins are actually silver, covered in a sheen of gold. It would be sufficient to fool someone who isn't paying too much attention, but the lightweight feel gives you cause to scratch the surface of the coin with your knife, flecking away bits of the gold to reveal the silver beneath.

Carefully examining the door, Bron can find no evidence of recent entry.

"Shall we investigate yonder tunnel? Many footprints in and out make me believe that there is much more to this story than a mere demon dwelling here."

"Curiosity."

Shen Hang-Wu

Having tagged along with Shen Hang-Wu, Bron bends down to the child and says, "By all means, little warrior. Take us there and we will avenge the deaths of the innocent. Demons shall fall at my blade."

"Certainly, Hakim - you show us."

Shen Hang-Wu

Hakim nods happily and heads off into the wastes to the south. His demeanor makes it plain that he is pleased to be a part of some grand adventure. The journey takes the better part of the morning and the sun is high in they sky by the time you arrive. Hakim leads you into a wide canyon; a good place for an ambush, you note warily. At the far end of the canyon is a wide hole opening into the rock face.

The cavern beyond is spacious, about 25 feet at its widest point, and 60 feet deep with a 15 foot ceiling. The air here is dry, but refreshingly cool. On the floor of the cave has been carved a mysterious rune, three joined loops, in front of a stone door. The door has a rusted-out metal keyhole and crumbling pull rings. In the dirt before the door can be seen a glint of gold.

On the right side of the cave, a crack in the wall has been widened by digging into a narrow, twisting tunnel from which a faint charnel smell emanates. Much rubble scatters the floor before the passage, and tracks show the passage of many bare, human feet.

Hakim supresses a shudder and steels his nerve. [color=blue]"This is where the demon dwells. It is a fearsome creature with wings like those of a desert bat, and fearsome claws, and yet it walks as a man."[/color]

You sense that Hakim is an accomplished tale spinner, but you cannot be certain how much of what he now says is truth and how much is embellishment. As if sensing your uncertainty, Hakim snaps defensively, [color=blue]"I have seen the demon with my own eyes, that is how I know it dwells here."[/color]

"What does the demon look like, Hakim?"

Shen Hang-Wu.

[OOC: The orange text is extremely difficult to read - if you want to use coloured text could you use a colour that contrasts better with the background, please?]

Bron bends down to inspect the rune, stone door, and gold dust.

"Hakim, who else comes here beside the demon?"

[color=purple]"The demon looks like a man, with flesh the color of stone. It has great wings, like those of the bat, and longs claws on it's fingers and feet. It has a single horn on it's head, and fearsome teeth."[/color]

The rune appears to have been graven into the stone using crude tools. It bears none of the hallmarks of a quality work. The door is constructed of a single piece of stone and is quite plain, save for the keyhole and the pull rings. It looks as though it could be moved, with considerable effort.

On closer inspection, the glint proves to be six golden coins, scattered in the dirt before the massive stone portal.

[color=purple]"I have never seen anyone here, besides the demon. I saw it emerge from this cave one evening, as the sun was beginning to set."[/color]

Brom gives the one who was learing at the Bossonian woman a disapproving look before enjoying the fact that his throat is no longer parched and the layer of sand and dust no longer caked inside his mouth.

Turning to Almaric and Shen Hang-Wu, he says "So, fellow travelers, what forces you to make this journey?"

The cantina is shaded and cool, a welcome refuge from the afternoon sun. At present, the place is largely empty. Other than yourselves, the only patrons are three elderly men sitting at a table and chatting amongst themselves, and a raven-tressed woman who has been traveling with your caravan. You know her only from a brief introduction; she is Juddita, a yeoman from the Bossonian Marches. Her longbow and quiver of arrows rest against a chair within easy reach, and a scabbarded short sword hangs from her baldric.

Shortly after you enter, a rotund, bearded man hurries into the room from a door opposite the wide entryway. He is dressed strangely for the heat, in brightly-colored, thick robes, but he seems unhindered for it. [color=grey]"Greetings, esteemed visitors,"[/color] he says, placing himself strategically between your table and that of the Bossonian woman. [color=grey]"Welcome to Katep. How may humble Hymar be of service to you today?"[/color] he asks in Shemitish.

Without hesitation, the Bossonian replies, [color=green]"Food and drink, and be quick of it!"[/color]

In response to Amalric's request, the larger man nods, [color=grey]"Could I not interest you in a fine wine instead, esteemed guest? Shem is famous for its wines."[/color] Without waiting for a response, he looks at Brom. [color=grey]"Water, then. As you command, so shall it be done! And what of you, my foreign friend?"[/color] he asks, turning his gaze to Sheng Hang-Wu.

[b]OOC:[/b] Keep in mind that unless you speak Shemitish, you will understand very little of this.

"Wine, for favour, good neighbour."

Sheng Hang-Wu.

Shen Hang-Wu's investigation turns up little other than what is already known. There are signs of a struggle; dirt on the floor of the tent has been stirred up and things are in a general state of disarray. A few spatters of blood can be seen on the fabric walls. As there have been several comings and goings, there are few intact foot prints, but the sorcerer does notice one oddity; a print that has three deep, circular impressions at one end. The print is in bad shape, and it is impossible to be certain whether the holes are at the front or back of the foot that created it.

As he conducts his investigation, he feels the presence of someone else in the tent with him. Looking up, he sees the small form of Hakim. [color=orange]"I know where the demon lives,"[/color] the child says simply. [color=orange]"Father does not believe me, but I have seen the demon's cave. I will take you, if you wish."[/color]

[color=blue]"Atum! Come, the wine is good. He is not worth your time!"[/color] Atum's friend calls from the other table. The tall man stands, considering Brom for a moment, as if calculating his chances of taking the barbarian, then snarls, [color=red]"You are fortunate, outlander, that I have more pressing business."[/color] With that, he goes to join his friends.

The Bossonian woman looks unimpressed, but offers Bron a smile. Standing, she carries her chair to your table, then gathers her belongings and food and joins you. [color=green]"You spared me the trouble of whetting my blade, stranger,"[/color] she says, glancing at Bron, [color=green]"Though I daresay he owes you a debt of thanks. I'd have as soon opened his throat as spoken to him. Tell me, what manner of northlander lets words speak louder than his blade?"[/color]

"Words can often be used to measure one's opponent. Know how to anger your foe and you have gained an edge in defeating him."

Smiling more, Bron continues, "It can also work up an appetite. Meat for the table!"

Introductions are made and a hot meal served. The woman introduces herself as Juddita, and explains that she is accompanying the caravan to the Black Kingdoms, seeking passage to Vendhya. Good food and good company are a fine way to pass the afternoon, and your company chats idly, swapping stories of past adventures. Soon, the sun begins to sink low in the west and shadows grow long.

In the dusky evening, as stars begin to appear in the evening sky, the cantina's patronage has swelled, as most of the merchants that had been busy selling their wares now make their way in for an evening meal, joining the locals in feasting. A local girl searing a garment composed of thin metal scales and swaths of silk dances seductively to music provided by a quartet of nomads. Atum and his henchmen have apparently decided that discretion is, indeed, the better part of valor, for they have consciously avoided your gaze for the entire afternoon.

As darkness falls over the oasis, a young boy of about 12 years comes dashing into the cantina. He is out of breath and panting, red-faced. [color=gold][b]"Father! Father! They come!"[/b][/color]

Hymar, tending to patrons, spares the boy only a glance. [color=grey]"Hakim! Where have you been! You are late, and business is good today!"[/color]

[color=gold][b]"A thousand apologies, father,"[/b][/color] the boy answers, slightly subdued, [color=gold][b]"but they approach! We must..."[/b][/color]

[color=grey]"You must get started on your chores, and then help me take care of hungry customers, Hakim."[/color]

[color=gold][b]"But father, they..."[/b][/color]

[color=grey]"Enough of your tales, boy, get to work or you will know my wrath!"[/color]

The child, his fervor dashed, disappears into the doorway that leads into the kitchen.

Bron motions Hymar over to the table. "Where I come from, alarms from children should not be so easily dismissed. Tell me, who does he mean by 'they are coming'?"

[color=grey]"A child's imagination, nothing more, my friend. This is not the first time he has returned with such tales. Last time, "they" were nothing more than a pack of desert dogs which followed him home. Hakim fancies himself a warrior of legend, and often spends time in the badlands to the south, playing at slaying demons."[/color]

Grinning a bit sheepishly, Bron says, "Yes, I remember a demon or two in my youth."